Hey guys! This is Flower1815 here, bringing you a new chapter of My little test subject - and just in time for my 21st birthday too! As most of you know, I plan to write as many chapters as I can and start updating them once every two weeks. I don't have sufficient chapters ready for that yet, but I'm posting this today since it's a special occasion and all. The programmed schedule won't happen until the fic's third anniversary, October 31st, and THEN I will upload chapters once every two weeks. To give you guys a bit of context on how far I am, I'm currently half-way through chapter 22 and – ohohoho boi you guys have a storm coming your way with that one.
Also, before I forget, I have updated the My little test subject official playlist on youtube, you can check it out right here: playlist?list=PLoel78Oq6AUTzlVttmhbFtKLRvEBU9fIQ
Still, hope you guys remain patient for just a little longer and enjoy this chapter.
Ear tips aching with cold, Edd sullenly kicked a pile of snow that was standing on his path. It was only the beginning of the day but he was already in a foul mood.
In front of him, Matt was chatting rather loudly with Mark; discussing the best brands of hair mousse, or something or other. Eduardo took the lead walking a couple paces ahead, while Edd did the same for the rear end of the group.
Some time has gone by since Edd and Matt's argument. Thinking he had given both of them sufficient time to get over it and move on, Edd tried to make more of an effort in spending time with Matt, and hopefully make amends. But things didn't go as he'd expected. Matt was more than happy to accept the offer, but only if their so called "former rivals" accompany them and Edd give them a chance.
Edd had begrudgingly agreed, but he wasn't the least bit happy with this arrangement. He wanted to spend time with Matt all by himself! Can't Eduardo and Mark have the least bit of sense and take a hike?
The supermarket came into view just right up ahead of them. The ground was more slippery the farther they walked, and Matt slowed down his pace exponentially until he was merely shuffling along. He remembers the near fall he had the other day and he doesn't want a repeat of that! The others were already well ahead of him, and Matt searched for the best way to go about this without the risk of slipping.
His gaze landed on the layer of untouched, fluffy snow beside him and Matt got an idea. Edd noticed the look in his friend's eyes and watched Matt hop right into the snow; immediately sinking knee deep.
"What are you doing, Matt? Get out of there!" Edd admonished. "The snow is a lot deeper than you think – you're gonna sink right through!"
"Nonsense!" Matt brushed him off, hopping from one leg to another in the snow as he sank deeper and deeper, trying to keep up with the rest of the group. "I won't risk hurting my beautiful face when there's a perfect good way to go about this- AH!"
His words cut off abruptly as the next step he took resulted in him sinking his entire weight through the snow until he was nearly shoulder deep.
Edd shook his head unimpressed. "See? Now look what happened!"
Matt's eyes widened in shock. "H-help!" His hands scrambled against the snow, desperately trying to claw his way out of the hole he made; but his hands merely sank through snow, creating an even bigger hole.
Edd rolled his eyes and quickly moved to help him. However, before he could reach him, Eduardo had turned back around and reached out toward Matt; grabbing the ginger by the back of his hoodie and hauling him out. Edd watched his actions in surprise before instantly switching to suspicion. His brown eyes narrowed, body going rigid as he prepared to jump in to Matt's defence at the slightest sign of aggression from his counterpart.
"Th- th- than-ks, Edu-Eduardo." Matt uttered through chattering teeth.
"Don't mention it. Bloody idiot." Eduardo grunted.
He released his hold on Matt as soon as he was standing back on the ground, and hurriedly moved away to put a good distance between himself and the others. Edd kept his gaze fixed on his rival the entire time.
They finally reached the grocery store, and Edd wasted no time going off on his own. If Matt prefers their company so much over his own, then Edd won't waste his time trying. Yet, even after he zigzagged his way through the aisles, trying to lose sight of the others, Edd conveniently could hear their voices just right behind at all times.
He glared back at them over his shoulder as they entered the cereal aisle. Mark appeared beside him, looking over the vast selection of cereals for the healthiest choice. Edd hunched his shoulders as the blond settled next to him. Couldn't he stick close to Eduardo and leave him in peace?
"What a shame. There are only kid brands here!" Mark tsked in disappointment when he couldn't find what he was looking for.
"Who cares?" Edd sniffed. "It's cereal. No one ever eats cereal to be healthy; not unless you're the boring kind of person."
"Oh c'mon, don't be grumpy." Mark nudged him good-naturedly. "I already have to deal with one grump; don't make me deal with another one." He gestured toward Eduardo standing a few feet away from where they are.
Edd rubbed his nose with one hand, trying to warm it up. "You can thank Matt for that." He grumbled under his breath and stalked away. He found Matt standing by the bakery section, gazing pensively at all the fresh baked goods. Edd neared him and when Matt was within reaching distance he pulled him aside. "I know what you're doing. Don't think that I don't!"
Matt blinked in bewilderment. "Oh? And what am I doing?"
"You're trying to get me to be friends with them! It's not gonna happen, Matt." Edd warned ill-tempered. The mere idea that Matt genuinely thinks he can get all four of them to be friends is absolutely ridiculous! Doesn't he see all the bad blood between them? And Matt has the audacity to bad talk about Reagan, when he is hanging around people like Eduardo!
"You said you would give them a chance." Matt ducked his head, looking at him imploringly.
Edd glowered. "I said I would consider, and I concluded that this arrangement is a bad idea." Matt opened his mouth to retort, but Edd barged past him before he could take the chance to do so.
The brunet marched his way toward the soda aisle, letting his bad temper run freely as he did so. Edd felt resentment and frustration flare up so intensely inside of him he lashed out at anyone who so much as breathes in his general direction. Even Hellucard, who greeted him in his usual cheery way didn't escape Edd's wrath unscathed, and got shoved out of the way right into a stack of soup cans. Edd was itching to pick a fight with someone – start a riot, or do something completely crazy and out of his league! Anything to snap the mundane facade that's been trying to mask his broken reality as normal; because things are absolutely not normal!
Tom is gone, and his rivals aren't rivals. That's not how things were supposed to be! Even Matt seemed happier nowadays.
Traitor.
Had he forgotten about Tom?
Edd grabbed a pack of cola at the same time as Eduardo appeared next to him, grabbing his own disgusting preference of the brand. Edd rolled his eyes. "I see you still like that trash." He growled. "Guess you haven't changed as much as you claim."
His words sounded lame even to his own ears, but at this point Edd was desperate to release his frustrations with a good fight – and he knows only Eduardo can deliver what he is looking for. His rival is so temperamental, Edd is sure it wouldn't take much to get Eduardo to throw a punch at him. Even with the major possibility he gets his ass handed to him, at least Edd will have let out some steam.
But both to his surprise and dismay, Eduardo only fixed him with a disinterested glance and turned away from him. Edd couldn't believe his eyes. He ignored me?! He glared at the burly brunet as he walked away from him.
Determined not to let Eduardo get out of this so easily, he hurried to catch up and ducked in front of him to stand on his path. "Oi! I'm talking to you here!" Anger flared up in Edd's eyes, and he took a pace forward that brought him practically nose to nose with Eduardo. "What's the matter? Not tough enough to pick on me anymore?"
Eduardo's nostrils flared minutely as he released a patient sigh. "I'm not giving in, Edd."
"What?"
"I'm not giving you what you want from me. Trust me, it's not worth it." Eduardo murmured calmly and narrowed his eyes. "I understand you're having a bad day and all; but this doesn't give you the excuse to act like a d#ck or treat the rest of us like trash."
Edd snorted. "Oh, act like you, you mean?" He flexed his fingers. "Don't pretend you suddenly grew a heart and you care for me all of a sudden! You may have Matt eating at the palm of your hand, but I know your tricks!"
"Edd, stop it!"
The shrill cry jerked Edd's attention away from his rival. He glanced behind him to see Matt and Mark watching their argument; in fact, he was causing such a scene that literally everyone in the supermarket stopped what they were doing to observe. All around him, people stared at him as if he'd gone mad. Matt looked upset as he approached the two of them, putting himself between Eduardo and Edd to stop the argument from escalating any further. He fixed his glistening blue eyes on Edd the whole time though.
"What's gotten into you?" Matt demanded, his usual chirpy tone hardened. "You've been sulking ever since we left home!"
Edd stared back at him, breath catching in his throat as he was momentarily caught off guard by Matt's spontaneous assertiveness. For a split second he felt almost ashamed of his actions, especially since he was making a scene over absolutely nothing. But then his eyes caught sight of Eduardo behind Matt, and irritation exploded inside of him.
Without another word, he whipped around and stormed away. Matt tried to catch his eye, but Edd simply ignored him.
"Sorry." He heard Matt squeak apologetically. "He must be in one of his moods."
How dare Matt apologize for him? After paying for his groceries, Edd shouldered his way out of the supermarket and into the streets. Taking any random direction he started to walk away, one hand shoved into the pocket of his hoodie while the other carried the shopping bag. The icy ground was slippery beneath his feet, and the freezing breeze made him shudder with cold.
He's in one of his moods! Edd fumed as Matt's words echoed in his ears.
He stomped farther down the street, trying to ignore the guilt pricking at his skin with every given step. It's not Matt's fault he felt so angry all the time. Every morning since Tom had died, Edd wakes up to the same hollow sadness opening like an old wound inside his chest. His body always cold and numb – feeling empty. It should be Tom helping Matt out of the snow, not Eduardo. If Tom were still alive, he would be the one accompanying them to the supermarket instead of their not-so-new neighbours. Why wasn't he here?
Things are too different – I can't keep up! I don't want to!
A few steps on, the path he randomly took widened and Edd emerged into an enclosed familiar area, surrounded by wire fences and tall buildings in crude painting. An empty playground lay ahead of him, which gave way to a narrow and shadowy path between two of the buildings.
An alleyway.
Curiosity getting the best of him, Edd stepped closer and peered into the shadows. Trash cans were tipped over next to a dumpster. The alleyway ended in a turn, with shadows moving around the corner. Loud and rough voices could be heard coming from within.
With a start, Edd recalled his many outings with Reagan and the grim warning the Irishman gave him the other night regarding venturing into this area on his own.
But Edd felt angry enough to take on a whole army of brutes. He was anxious to pick a fight with someone for once, and forget his troubles. Edd took a careful step forward into the alley. Even though his common sense was screaming at him to turn back, Edd pressed on despite himself. Avoiding some of the trash that littered the ground, trying to make the least amount of noise as possible, Edd stalked farther in. He pressed himself against the wall just a he was about to turn the corner. The voices were louder now; complaining and discussing things beyond Edd's understanding.
Edd stiffened, ready to fight, as footsteps thumped closer to him. His breath hitched, panic taking over for a brief moment before he braced himself.
He was about to rush in when a hand came out of nowhere and clamped over his mouth. Edd gagged, eyes widening and he began to struggle when pulled back down the other end. Once standing outside the alleyway the mysterious person let go of Edd, who whirled around to meet with Eduardo's furious stare.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He growled incredulously. "Don't you know there are thugs around?"
"Of course I do!" Edd snapped back. Sh#t, I didn't notice him following me!
"There's probably a whole bunch of them in there." Eduardo nodded toward the alleyway. "Just waiting for some dumbass like you to wander in and give them an easy time." Edd met his stare defiantly but didn't say anything. "Do you really think you can take on all of them?"
Edd opened his mouth for an angry retort when something stirred deep inside the alley— the sound of voices growing increasingly louder and garbage cans tip over and rattling against the hard floor. Two looming, and distinctive human-looking shadows appeared from around the corner, followed by a pair of gruff voices—fear shot through Edd.
Eduardo whisked behind him and shoved him back the other way. "Hurry!"
Glancing over his shoulder at the shadowy alley, Edd let Eduardo guide him back along the path. His heart was racing as they reached the safety of the busy streets.
Eduardo turned his head and observed his surroundings for a couple heartbeats. "No one followed us."
Edd lifted his chin, hoping Eduardo couldn't sense his relief. "Where are the others?" He asked between breaths.
"I told them to go ahead on their way back home," Eduardo told him, "and get brunch started for all of us."
Without another word, Edd nodded, feeling numb, and turned his feet toward home.
"Hold up, loser!" Eduardo's voice halted him. "We're not done here yet. I want to talk to you." He swept the excess of snow from the nearest bench with one hand, then sat down and cleared another space beside him. "We're not going back till you tell me what's going on, right now."
Edd grit his teeth. He didn't feel like talking to Eduardo. He didn't feel like talking to anyone. He just wants to go home and curl up in his bed, far away from the snow, the cold, and his neighbours. Is that too much to ask?
"There's nothing wrong." He began tightly, forcing himself to approach his former rival. "I'm just cold and tired."
Eduardo's stern gaze didn't stray from his. "We're all cold and tired. But it doesn't give us the right to be rude or reckless."
"I wasn't being reckless!" Edd snapped.
"Oh really, now? You were about to challenge some thugs in the back of an alley!" Eduardo's voice hardened to anger. His gaze burned so fiercely that Edd averted his eyes to study his feet; his ears suddenly hot despite the freezing air around them. "How do you think the airhead would have felt if you'd been beaten to a pulp, huh?" Eduardo went on. "He's only just recovering from Tom's death. He doesn't need you to die on him as well!"
Anger flashed through Edd and he scowled at him. "I wasn't going to die!" He insisted.
"Then what were you going to do, eh?" Eduardo challenged. "Invite the bandits to come home for supper?"
Edd sulked and looked away with a stubborn shrug.
"Now, sit the f#ck down and tell me what's wrong!"
Reluctantly Edd sat down beside him. The bench felt cold and damp as he sat, and he involuntarily shivered. "I'm just having a bad day, that's all."
"Well, it seems like every day is a bad day with you."
Shut up! Shut up! Edd would give just about anything to make Eduardo stop talking and leave him alone, but his wishes went on unheard.
"We each have to do our best when it comes to moving on from a hard situation. But as far as I can tell, you're not even trying." Eduardo murmured. "You act like everything's a chore. Sometimes I feel like we're all wasting our time trying to help you. You're so bad-tempered with everyone you meet they're starting to avoid you."
His words stung like needles, and Edd found himself shrinking inside his hoodie as he went on. At least Reagan likes me.
"Why should anyone try to look after you if you won't do the same for them, huh?" Eduardo continued more firmly. "I know you. Not on a personal level, by any means, but I know you enough to see that this isn't like you. News flash: acting like a complete jerk isn't going to bring your friend back from the dead any time soon!"
"Nothing will, anyway." Edd muttered crossly.
Eduardo's eyes narrowed. "And that's an excuse to be as much a prick as you want, then?"
"I—I..." His voice choked, his eyes glistening. "Everything's gone wrong!" There was a heavy pause. Edd hated himself for feeling the urge to burst into tears; especially in front of his supposed nemesis. He then looked up, surprised when he felt an awkward hand pat him on the back.
"You miss your friend." Eduardo continued solemnly. "Of course you do. But you gotta move on – no amount of grieving is going to bring him back."
"What do you know?" Edd bristled, lifting his chin. "All we've ever done is fight one another! Don't try to pretend now that we are friends or something. You are never going to replace him!"
Eduardo pulled his hand away, blinking with surprise. "Wait, what? Don't be ridiculous! I'm not trying to replace him. Where did you even get such crazy idea from?"
"Are you sure?" Edd glared at him accusingly. "Because it sure as hell seems like it!"
Eduardo met his gaze, unblinking. He took a deep breath or two to maintain his patience. "Look-" He resisted the temptation to call him loser. This was not the time for this. Eduardo sighed. "You are going through a rough patch, your emotions are confused and this is leading you to do reckless things out of anger and frustration." He continued more calmly. "I know you don't really mean the things that you're saying right now. Nor do I believe, as stupid as you may be, that you would purposefully seek out trouble."
Edd's eyes blazed and he bristled with anger, before his fury deflated all at once and he looked away unsurely. Truth be told, he was kind of dumbfounded with how on point Eduardo is.
"You know that I am not trying to take your friend's place in your life. Heck, I don't think it's even physically possible given how close the two of you were!" Eduardo kept on ranting. "But… Tom would've wanted you to move on and be happy, just as you were before."
How do you know? Indignation washed over Edd again.
He dug his nails into the wood of the bench as Eduardo took a shaky breath. "I wish Jon were still alive, too." He murmured, with a sadness so intense that it nearly nulled Edd's fury away. Then he shook his head and stood up, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. "But he's not, and we can't grieve forever. Your dumb friend needs you. Concentrate more on what you're doing now, rather than what you could've done. Otherwise you'll just be repeating the same mistake all over again before you know it." His voice was brisk as he began to walk away with his hands on his pockets. "It'll give you something else to think about."
Edd stood up from the bench, his legs so numb with cold that he staggered clumsily as he did.
Eduardo glanced back at him. "Are you gonna be okay?"
Inspecting his surroundings for a few heartbeats, Edd released a tired sigh. His rage hasn't gone away completely, but he can't deny he felt more like himself now that he's had the chance to talk about it for a bit.
"Yeah, I guess… I just…" Edd mumbled, and then shot one last glare at Eduardo. "Can we pretend today never happened?"
Eduardo steadily stared back at him before shrugging. "I can deal with that."
(Meanwhile…)
"Hold still – this will only take a few seconds."
Obeying Patrick's instructions Tom remained frozen as the Polish soldier circled him, measuring his height and width with a tape. At the end of every month Tom is always brought to the lab for a basic check-up, to make sure his condition was up-to-date and his treatment was working. This time however, Pat was also taking his measurements for Tom's new soldier uniform that Tord had requested for him. Tom frowned in distaste at the idea but went along with it without complaint.
Tom jerked out of his thoughts by his rumbling stomach. He hates how dependent he has become over the course of time living in this dreadful place, and how he doesn't have the same endurance as he once did. Tom used to go days on end without food, with only Smirnoff to satisfy him. But nowadays, if his meals are even a few minutes later than scheduled his stomach starts cramping with pain.
But he will take hunger over today's alternative any day.
"Do I really have to go?" Tom whined. "Why does he feel the need to have dinner with me? I practically see him all the time; he can easily stop by my quarters and discuss matters with me without a hassle. Why start on the formalities now?"
"Red Leader was adamant on his request." Paul answered, sitting on the edge of a desk. "He merely wishes to discuss your future in the Red Army, just in a more formal setting. Boss does take his title very seriously, as you can tell by now. And last I heard he seems to be really proud of how your training is shaping up."
Paul and Patrick looked at Tom with admiring stares—it was considered both an honour and a privilege to dine with the Red Leader. Tom didn't share their excitement. The last person he wanted to share a meal with was Tord.
"Don't worry though! Just think of it as a chat with a meal on the side." Paul tried to reassure, but Tom could detect the amusement in his voice even as he attempted to curb it into a more neutral tone.
Tom raised one eyebrow quizzically. He didn't understand what entertained the Commander so greatly about this. It was even stranger when he caught a glimpse of Patrick shooting a warning glance at Paul. What just flashed between the two soldiers?
"Well, after you're done talking to him do you want to join us in our quarters later?" Patrick offered, looking up from his work. "Things are running smoothly today and we think it's going to be one of those "freebie" days."
"We're thinking of watching a scary movie about ghosts! Or maybe this documentary that I found about creepy haunted locations! Or anything to do with ghosts really!" Paul added, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the idea. Tom stared at him in surprise.
"Funny, I never took you for a believer of the supernatural."
"Not just a believer! I am a paranormal enthusiast! Ghosts, aliens, cryptids, and conspiracy theories – you name it!" Paul jumped off the desk in his enthusiastic raving and started pacing around the Brit. "My biggest dream is to go to a haunted location and see a supernatural occurrence with my own eyes! Boy let me tell you; when Red Leader first found this base I was so ecstatic! I mean, it's an abandoned military base that had been used for world war one and two – there had to be something spooky lurking around! And I checked this whole place, top to bottom, and stayed awake for many nights trying to find ghosts… but no. Unfortunately this is just an old, admittedly impressive, historical military base."
Tom listened to Paul's non-stop babble, not entirely interested on the subject matter, but he couldn't help but admire the Commander's passion for the supernatural. Patrick on the other hand merely rolled his eyes unimpressed, but with a clear hint of affection in his honeyed-green gaze.
Paul laughed. "I'm even planning on renting an abandoned house or book a haunted room in a hotel for Pat and I's honeymoon!"
"Absolutely not!" Pat interjected, his face flushed pink at the mention of a honeymoon. "I refuse to spend a night in a haunted location – sceptical or not!"
Taken back by Patrick's reaction, Paul chuckled sheepishly and lifted his hands, palms out.
Tom stifled down the laugh the bubbled in his throat as he continued to watch the pair argue. These two are definitely meant for each other. Despite his many concerns, it was strange how attached he grew to the two soldiers.
There's Paul, whose sense of humour closely resembles his own and serves as a good way to brighten what's left of his bleak life. The Red Army Commander would sometimes sneak a muffin from the canteen for him, and since Tom is not allowed any contact with the outside world, Paul also shows him some funny posts and videos on his phone.
Then there's Patrick, whose level-headedness and patience often soothes Tom's nerves, and has helped him a thousand times more than any real therapist in the past. A shame it will have all been for nothing, but it was admittedly kinda nice while it lasted.
Tom watched the pair with a wistful fondness. Even if this whole thing is all just an act to get him to cooperate with their schemes, they undoubtedly made an impact on Tom.
He will miss them when the time comes.
"These two are really good actors, I will commend them on that. ~" The voice murmured with a low growl, casting Tom's surroundings in shadow as it leaned over his shoulders; as if to observe the scene. "But we both know what they really are. Don't try to pity them for what you plan to do – your miserable existence doesn't need help being sadder than it already is. ~"
I know. Tom conceded. His time was running out; maybe just one more week, and then everything will be over. The thought made his heart clench up tight in his chest and a sob nearly hitch his throat. The fact that he was not alone in his room right now was the only thing that forced Tom to keep it down.
"Oh come now, don't start with the waterworks you big miserable f#ck. ~" The voice soothed, dragging a long sharp digit along Tom's cheeks to wipe the few deceptive tears that managed to escape his control. "The biggest reaction they'll get from your demise will be disappointment for their schemes not going according to plan. They don't care about you. They never have. If anything, everyone will be relieved not having to deal with you anymore. ~"
The two soldiers were too busy discussing about possible wedding plans and ghosts to take notice of Tom subtly wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.
One more week. The foreboding date echoed in his mind.One week left to live.
The voice barked out a mocking laugh. "Hardly. It's not like you can perform your last few wishes here till then. ~" More spectre limbs surrounded Tom, wrapping him up in a morbid hug of sorts; subduing him in his proper place. "But don't think too much about that. What you intend to do is for a worthy cause – perhaps the only good you've ever done! Imagine how thankful everyone will be that the burden is finally gone. ~"
With his physical health fully recovered and the training sessions getting intense with each passing day, Tom figured the experiments wouldn't be far off now. So in a week or so… that will be it. Tom tried not to think about the specifics of his death, as the thought only filled him with even more dread.
Bleeding out on a surgical table by a Commie bastard...
"Sounds like the punch line to a very funny joke. ~"
Is it considered suicide if you give someone the right circumstances they'll need to unintentionally kill you?
"If that's the intention you're going for, then yes! ~"
He focused his attention back to the present. "Yeah, I would love to hang out with you guys." He broke through the pair's conversation. "Especially since I'll need something to make up for the dinner with the Commie."
"Splendid!" Patrick nodded, clasping his hands together and then looked down at his watch. "Well, I think we are done here. Seems like everything is in order with you, and you need to get going now. We don't want to keep Red Leader waiting."
Tom rolled his non-existent eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Whatever."
He followed Paul and Pat as they led the way out of the lab into the long hallways, chatting about mundane stuff that happens at the base. Amidst the conversation, they eventually came upon the topic of Red Leader when Tom decided to ask a question that's been plaguing his mind for a while.
"Have you guys notice anything… strange about Tord lately?"
Paul and Patrick exchanged glances with each other. Paul's eyes were gleaming with mirth, but other than that he was maintaining his expression nulled. Patrick, with a professional poker face, was the one who replied. "Not that we can tell. Why do you ask?"
Tom fumbled with his hands. "He's been acting really weird recently."
Hand covering half his face, Paul quietly snickered in amusement. "Oh? How come?" He slyly asks. He could sense Patrick's stern gaze on him, silently sending him the message to not give away their leader's feelings. As if he would do a thing like that! Paul can just imagine the great Red Leader, blushing every time he stands too close to Tom, or floundering in embarrassment whenever he was caught staring at the test subject for too long. He wouldn't be surprised if his leader's attraction for the eyeless man had grown stronger roots and the Norsk outright flirted with Tom at this point.
But Tom's answer wasn't at all what they were expecting.
"Well, he's been getting more aggressive in training sessions than usual. Hell, he dropped a f#cking car on top of me the other day during an obstacle course to test out my reflexes or some sh#t!"
Paul and Patrick blinked at each other, wide-eyed. "That's… certainly quite odd of him." Paul confessed, still glancing unsurely back at Pat.
They arrived in the duo's quarters through Patrick's study as Tom elaborated on the strange ways Tord's been behaving as of late, including the glimpses of disappointment he would often catch on the Norsk's face. The two soldiers shared a steady glance at one another.
"As worrisome as this sounds, I don't think you should take it so personally, Thomas." Pat coolly advised, his eyes narrowed. "Red Leader is a busy man with lots on his mind and plenty of work to concern himself with. It's likely he just got a bit stressed and was taking it out on you as a result."
"Stress…" Tom echoed the word just loud enough to be heard; clearly he didn't believe it, but he wasn't prepared to press the soldiers for more answers or even outright accuse them of lying.
"With that said; his behaviour is still inexcusable." Patrick continued. "We will discuss this matter with him at a later date, I promise."
The two soldiers led Tom to the living room in their quarters. Paul neared the wall on the opposite side, pressing his hand against a panel that's come to life and scanned his palm as the small lift revealed itself. Tom watched anxiously. As much as he was dreading his meeting with Tord, he was also excited to finally leave the confines of the lab level. It's not the surface, but it's at least something different!
The elevator's doors slide open with a resonating hiss, prompting Tom's heart to race faster in his chest.
"This is it, then." Paul shifted beside him. "This lift will take you straight to Red Leader's office, where he's waiting for you."
Pat stepped forward and started fixing Tom's hair and clothes. "Please be in your best behaviour, alright? Don't provoke him, and eat all your food, okay?" He fussed over the test subject, trying to make him look presentable for their leader when Paul gently pulled him away.
"I think he got this." The Commander smiled reassuringly.
Tom rolled his non-existent eyes. "Yeah I'll try, but it will depend on how annoying the Commie is going to be." He crossed his arms and scoffed. "Besides, what's the worst he can do to me now?"
Patrick looked at him for a long moment and sighed. "After you've been dismissed, you may wait for us here." He told him. "We shouldn't take long to complete all the tasks."
Tom nodded curtly. Paul neared the wall again and pressed his hand on the panel before giving the Brit a quick thumbs up. "Good luck!"
The doors slide shut, and Tom was left by himself as the elevator started to make it's ascend. Lights waving past his form with every passing level, Tom slumped against the wall of the lift and took deep breaths to calm himself. He dealt with far worse than a mere dinner with the Commie; this should be a walk in the park. But why was he so nervous then?
Perhaps because this is the first time in several months Tom will find himself out of his familiar element and in close quarters with none other than Tord. And why the formal setting? Not once has Tord ever bothered with that sort of thing with him before. Tom has a gut feeling this will be more than just a causal chat with meal on the side.
The elevator stopped. Gulping, Tom braced himself for what was about to happen next. The lift doors slide open, and Tom was met with the sight of a mahogany red room.
He blinked, expecting to hear the familiar teasing comments greeting him into the foreign room at any moment, but nothing happened. Cautiously, Tom leaned his head forward to take a peek. "Commie?" He called out quietly. When he received no answer, the eyeless man stepped fully into the room. The elevator slid shut behind him and a bookcase appeared where it once stood; effectively sealing him into the office.
"Tord?" Tom called out again, surveying the room.
There were bookcases on both sides; two sets of double-doors behind him and to his right, and another door to his left. A dark wooden desk positioned at the far front with a huge red chair behind it, and a blue and red tapestry with the army's insignia plastered at the far end wall.
But no sign of Tord.
"It seems the Commie forgot about our meeting." Tom observed out loud before shrugging. "Oh well, guess this means I won't need to have dinner with him after all!"
Whistling a happy little tune, Tom turned away to go back to the lift; but there was only one problem. The bookcases look all the same, and Tom can't remember which one he just appeared out of! Or how to summon the elevator for that matter.
Tom felt around the bookshelves for some kind of button or lever – he even pulled on some books, thinking one of them was the trigger to the lift, but nothing happened.
"Great." Tom groaned sarcastically and backed away in defeat. It's so like Tord to make an overly complicated secret contraption!
Accepting his fate, Tom decided to wait around for his captor to show up by taking a detailed look around the office. Give thanks to Tord's brilliant idea of leaving him waiting in his office unsupervised!
Scanning the rows of books, Tom let his gaze wander over the vast collection of titles briefly. Tom could identify English, and of course, Norwegian works; but he was surprised to find some German and Russian tomes among the collection as well. I didn't know Commie could speak more than two languages.
Nothing in particular caught his interest aside from that, and Tom decided to investigate the doors.
He first went to the main doors behind him, which no doubt leads to the rest of the base. Tom tried the door but it wouldn't budge. He steps away in disappointment, turning his attention to the double doors to his right. Before trying the knob, Tom pressed his ear against the door to listen for any sounds. When he couldn't hear anything coming from within, Tom twisted the doorknob and swung it open.
Inside the room was a large oval table with a detailed map laid out on the surface, several chairs, and more tapestries on the walls. Tom deduced this was a meeting room of some kind and promptly left.
His gaze rested on the last door, opposite of him. Tom crossed the room and pressed his ear against the wooden surface for noises. When there was nothing, Tom tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge.
Locked. Tom seethed. He then bends on his knees and peers into the keyhole, but all he could see on the other side was red. Tom figured this most likely is Tord's room.
That just leaves Tord's desk.
Tom walked around the desk and settled himself down on the great chair. He breathed a little pleased sigh when he leaned back on it and let his weight sink in. "Great chair." Tom gave a few experimental spins and kicked back his legs over the desk in a relaxed posture. "Man, if sitting on this chair and boss people around all day is what Tord does then no wonder he is obsessed with his goals!"
As he spun around, Tom caught sight of a row of glass casings and shelves just behind him; hidden from view by the desk. He instantly jumped to his feet to investigate. As it was expected of Tord, there was a collection of various types of weapons on display; most commonly guns, but there were also blades as well. Tom's gaze scanned the small space of trophies when he caught sight of a frame hanging on the wall. He leaned closer to inspect it and his eyes widened upon realizing it was a doctor's degree. Damn, Commie really did get busy while he was away!
On one of the shelves, Tom recognised at once the infamous hat Tord treasured so much to the point of prioritizing it first above his giant robot. He grabbed the pickelhaube off the shelf and put it on for sh#ts and giggles. However, his spiky hair impeded the headgear from fitting on his head.
As he moved to place the spiked hat back in its proper place, Tom's gaze flickered upward for a tiny fraction and he froze in apprehension. Above him, mounted on the wall as some sort of morbid reminder, was a lacerated arm encased in glass with the date "March 16, 2016" engraved at the bottom.
Holy stampede on a cruise ship – who in the everlasting f#ck keeps their amputated limb around?!
Goosebumps suddenly rose along his spine, and Tom felt warm breath tickling the back of his neck.
"Hallo, gamle venn. ~"
Tom jumped in alarm and immediately whipped around, coming face to face with Tord; towering over him in all his glory with a smug grin on his face. F#ck! Tom silently cursed himself for being so careless and getting caught off-guard in such an embarrassing manner. How did he get in here without making a sound?
"How-?" Tom swallowed, his throat so dry his words were getting stuck in his throat. "How long have you been standing there?"
Tord shrugged. "A while, actually. Glad to know you like my chair as much as I do." He slyly replies. Hiding his mortification behind a scowl, Tom glared at the Norsk. However, his reaction only prompted further amusement from Tord, and the Norwegian man chuckled. "You're so cute when you're mad." He patted the Brit's face condescendingly.
"Yeah? Well I'm about to get really f#cking adorable!" Tom fumed, balling his hands into fists and knocked the offending hand away.
"In any case, I owe you an apology for keeping you waiting." In the blink of an eye, Tord's posture and mood shifted, fitting a more professional demeanour as he dipped his head politely and taking Tom by surprise. "I got caught up in a meeting with some of my Generals and lost track of time."
Tom blinked, his anger and embarrassment fading away. Only then did he take notice of the dark circles underneath the Norsk's visible eye, as though he hadn't rested for quite some time. Tom knew the effects of sleep deprivation all too well to recognise them.
"Are you… okay?" He ventured, the hesitance clear in his tone. It was a silly question, really – nothing about Tord is okay, and Tom has no reason to care either – but Tom couldn't help but ask anyway.
Tord's brow furrowed. "Whatever do you mean?" He tilted his head.
"You, uh, got dark circles under your eye." Tom gestured vaguely at his own left eye, mumbling under his breath. "You look like you haven't slept in days." He wasn't even sure why he was so concerned about this to begin with. If Tord wants to work himself to the point of passing out, that was ultimately on him! Patrick's words from earlier resonated within him. Maybe he really is just stressed. But something about this whole ordeal was ringing off alarm bells in Tom's head, and he can't put a finger on it.
"Oh, that. I've just been working hard on a couple of projects." Tord waved his hand dismissively. "I've had a great many things on my mind. More so than usual these days. In fact, the reason why you're here in the first place is so that we may discuss some of these." He stepped aside, smiling as he gently guided Tom to his seat on the opposite side of the desk.
Tom eyed him wearily. "But why over dinner, though?"
"I thought you would appreciate a change of scenery." Tord grinned, settling down on his own seat across the eyeless man. "Being confined to the lab levels for several months must be driving you mad! Plus a meal to go along with our talk will diffuse some of the tension quite nicely."
"What tension?" Tom snorted.
Tord shrugged. "You tell me." He smirked slyly. "You're the one with tense shoulders here."
Frowning, Tom forced himself to sit back and adapt a more lazy posture. "Coming from personal experience, nothing good ever comes when you're trying to get chummy with me." He glared at the Norwegian man sitting across from him. Eerily enough, the Red Leader was leaning forward in his seat with his arms propped on the table and fingers interlaced with each other under his chin; his one-eyed gaze staring intensely back at Tom and a large grin on his face. Off-putting, to say the least.
"Do try to relax." Tord murmured. "Our food should arrive any minute now."
Easier said than done. Tom huffed silently and crossed his arms.
Tord cleared his throat. "While we wait, let's get to business; shall we?" He said, prompting Tom to look at him questioningly. "Your training has been coming along great so far, but you still have a long way to go before you are deemed a proper soldier. I shall speed up your training by dropping your physical evaluations with Paul and replacing them with more training hours. They are more than enough exercises for you."
"Does this mean Paul will take over my training then?" Tom dared himself to hope.
"No." Tord instantly replied, shooting a quick glare at the eyeless man for even suggesting such a thing. "As his duties to the Red Army come first, I will need him to supervise the rest of the base while I'm busy overseeing your training."
Tom stared at him indignantly. "What? That's bullsh#t! You're obviously more important and busy than Paul is. Why can't he train me instead?"
Tord stiffened. "I decide the future of my soldiers, Thomas. Not you." He cast him a warning glance. "My decision is final."
Swallowing his frustration, Tom begrudgingly backed down. Giggling drowned his thoughts as his vision darkened, and Tom found himself frowning in confusion. What are you laughing at?
"Why are you so concerned over a mundane thing like training? ~" The voice howled with laughter, seeming to grip on to Tom's shoulders for support. "You will be dead in a week, remember? You won't have to worry about who is going to train you, because you will be dead long before it can matter. ~"
Tom inwardly grimaced. I suppose…
"Anyways." Tord stirred their conversation back on track. "You should probably know that there will be an assessment by the end of your training to grade you on all your skills."
"What happens if I were to fail the assessment?" Tom prompted. When Tord fixed him with an unamused glare, he corrected himself by trying to appear modest and cleared his throat. "Hypothetically speaking?"
The Norwegian man smirked. "Then you will merely return to training as usual, and your welcoming ceremony will be delayed for another few months."
Tom blinked. "Welcoming ceremony?" No one said anything about there being a ceremony!
"Ah yes! I suppose I have neglected to inform you what happens after your training is completed. Guess this is a good time as any to elaborate then." Tord continued more decisively. "The welcoming ceremony – or rank up ceremony – is when recruits have successfully completed their training and are ready to be made into soldiers; earning their place among our ranks. They are to stand in presence of the other army members and swear an oath of loyalty to yours truly." He finished with a sly grin directed at Tom.
The Brit bristled. "F#ck that! You're never gonna get me to willingly swear some stupid oath to you! Or wear those ridiculous uniforms for that matter." He turned away deliberately. "Red is not my colour. There's nothing your dumb army has to offer me."
Tord raised one eyebrow at the challenge. "Did I ever mention the Red Army doesn't celebrate Christmas? As big a fan I am for the holiday, I recognise that due to the vast diverse nature of my soldiers it wouldn't be very appropriate. So I allow my soldiers to celebrate whatever they want on their own time." He grinned immensely when he caught the flicker of interest in Tom's gaze hiding behind a sulking expression. "Nonetheless; those who failed to pass their assessment have their memory promptly erased and are put back where they were found. Because you are a special case, your place in the Red Army is already guaranteed. It's just a matter of being prepared for it."
"Whoa, hold on! You mean you kick out people that fail?" Tom exclaimed, his empty eyes wide in shock. "Just like that? No retakes? Didn't it occur to you that you're sending away valuable numbers to add to your stupid army? For someone who wants to take over the world, shouldn't you need as many people on your side as possible?" He stopped himself, clamping his mouth shut once he realized he was ranting at a mad man, who took his ambitions very seriously and doesn't like to be challenged.
Tord was silent for a couple seconds before a sly grin re-appeared on his face. "Well... I didn't realize you took my hobbie this seriously, Thomas. I'm glad you've finally taken an interest on it though." He purred, and there was a note of fresh interest in his voice. "As for your questions… I believe I told you the origin for most of my soldiers, have I not?" Tom nodded cautiously, recalling their conversation many months ago. "The Red Army is their second chance. They were unsatisfied with their ordinary lives, one way or another, and we offered them the choice of a new life. One with far richer pickings and greater possibilities than they could've ever achieved under normal circumstances. All I ask in return is their loyalty and nothing short than their absolute best. I don't need slackers in my army taking advantage of my generous offer; so if they fail their assessment – good riddance!"
Tom opened his mouth to ask more questions when a sudden knock on the door brought their conversation to a halt.
"That's our food." Tord rose from his seat. "Wait here. I'll be right back." He went around the desk and past Tom in long, graceful strides toward the door. He briefly ruffled his test subject's hair as he passed, soliciting the Brit to angrily bat his hand away in return.
From his seat, Tom watched Tord answer the door; barely open as he conversed quietly to the mysterious person – most likely a soldier – on the other side. He saw Tord dip his head politely and take the tray of food from the unknown sender before closing the door and making his way back to the desk.
Even from across the room Tom could somehow detect the smell of hot food, and he found himself sniffing the air for more. The delectable scent made his stomach growl, reminding him of his hunger. Tom could almost tolerate Tord's presence and annoying attitude for the sake of finally filling his empty stomach.
His mind started to wander as Tord returned with the tray in hand, the scent of food growing stronger in his nostrils. I hope it's fish. Tom thought, resisting the urge to lick his lips as he envisioned food inside his head. Oh, fish would be great about now! With white rice, some steamed beans, and maybe with potatoes coated in butter, too.
"Don't you have better things to think about? ~" The voice deadpanned, tapping one finger repeatedly on his arm in an irritated gesture. "It's not like you deserve to be fed anyway. He's only feeding you to keep you from dying on him – like that's gonna do any good. ~" It appear to grin at the end.
I already agreed to die, what more do you want from me at this point? Tom retorted, pushing aside his usual fear of the entity living inside his head. Can't I enjoy the thought of food until then?
Tord returned to his seat, setting the trays of food down on the desk; one for each. Humorously enough, while Tord received a glass of wine to accompany his meal, Tom only got a carton of grape juice. He didn't even bother commenting on the silly choice of drink, as it was a par for the course with Tord at this point. Tom merely sets his sights on the tray, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before lifting the lid off of his meal, ready to chow down-
The indistinguishable tangy smell of meat hit his senses like a truck, making Tom freeze in place as he stared at his dinner in horror.
It's meat.
Bloody, juicy, rare done meat.
Suddenly all the hunger Tom previously felt before doesn't seem as prominent anymore.
"Something wrong, Thomas?" Tord's silky question brought Tom to his senses. He looked up to meet with the Red Leader's intrigued, but evidently smug gaze. "Why, just a second ago you looked absolutely famished; now you're staring at your food as if it had grown a head and started talking to you."
"Yes… I thought you wanted to enjoy your food before the time comes? ~" The voice joined in on the teasing, throwing Tom's own words back at his face.
The Brit gulped. "I, uh, I'm… you probably didn't know about this, but I'm a semi-vegetarian now." He scratched the back of his head, diverting his gaze anywhere but his plate.
Tord barked out a laugh and stared at him disbelievingly. "Do you take me for a fool? We grew up together, Tom. I know you better than anyone else here, and I know for a fact that you despise vegetables. And everyone knows you have a bit of a problem when it comes to certain fruits too." He pointed out, stabbing his fork into a particularly bloody piece of meat in his plate and started waving it in front of Tom's face teasingly. "So how is it that you have become a vegetarian, hm?"
"He's onto you. ~" The voice's warning had more layers than meets the eye. Tom's shoulders sagged and he released a deep sigh of defeat.
"Okay, you got me. I will confess…" He closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. "When you left us, all those years ago, you would have been right to doubt me. But then…" He inhaled deeply. "There was this one day Matt was insisting that I watch a movie with him, and he wouldn't stop pestering me until I sat down and complied. So I did! And he found this movie with a cute cow or something on the cover and automatically thought: "Ah what a cute little cow! I bet this movie is going to be adorable!" but the idiot didn't realize it was actually a documentary about the food industry and all the horrible sh#t that animals go through on a daily basis to get to our plates! Long story short, neither of us had a good time watching that and I can't stand the thought of eating meat anymore. Just looking at it makes me-" Tom gagged mid-rant and turned his head away. "Nauseous."
He wasn't even pretending to retch – that was just Tom's natural reaction to meat nowadays. And he had rehearsed this story with the voice so many times it might as well be the truth. Obviously he can't admit the real reason as to why he doesn't eat meat anymore, so Tom had to get a believable excuse ready if the occasion ever arises.
And good thing too; because Edd had taken notice of his peculiar dislike for red meat way back when and questioned him about it. Tom told him the exact same story as he did now, and Matt was so dense he naively agreed with him despite the fact that this never actually happened!
Apparently his lame story worked on Tord to some extent as well, because the Norsk slowly lowered his fork away from Tom's face. "I see." He nodded in understanding. Though the steely glint in his gaze says something else entirely. "Now, where were we?"
Tom bit his lips anxiously. "Uh, kicking failed soldiers out?"
"Ah, yes!" Tord gracefully took a bite out of the same piece he had previously offered Tom. "As I was saying, privates who fail to meet our expectations have no place in this army. We make this abundantly clear in their first weeks of training; and fortunately, the great majority has good sense to not throw away their second chance like that. Everyone takes their training very seriously, so failures are incredibly rare to come by nowadays."
Absently, Tom hummed and nodded along with whatever the Norsk was saying. Poking at his meal with a mixture of weariness and disinterest as he tried to set apart the few vegetables there were from the steak on his plate.
"That reminds me – now that you're back to proper health, we should begin the serum experiments as soon as possible." Tord went on as usual. Tom perked up at that and raised one eyebrow questioningly. "As it is our main priority right now, this means both your training and mental evaluations will be put on hold for an undetermined amount of time. Once we finally get some results out of you, then we may proceed with the planned schedule as usual. "
One more week. The date echoed ominously in Tom's head and he gulped.
"You mentioned that most of your soldiers join you because they want a second chance in life…" Tom spoke softly, changing the subject away from the experiments and his inevitable approaching doom. "But that doesn't really explain why they would be crazy enough to join you and your evil schemes."
"Evil?" Tord echoed in genuine surprise.
"Yeah." Tom went on more firmly. "You claim you have good intentions – that you want to make the world a "better place" – but here you are; building weapons, creating an army, and… making monsters to get what you want. You are ready to put thousands of lives on the line for the sake of your selfish goals. And I'm not just talking about your soldiers either, I mean all the innocent people out there who will have to endure the war you want to put them through."
Rolling his eye, Tord tsked in distaste and glared at Tom. "You always had a strong tendency to villainize me." He muttered, straightening his back so he was leaning comfortably in his chair. "Tell me, Thomas; does that make you feel better about yourself? Making me the bad guy of your story who must be stopped at all costs? I couldn't help but notice you staring at the little memento I keep back there." He inclined his head briefly to the side, swirling the wine in his glass fluidly. "Did you get satisfaction out of that? Knowing you were the one who foiled my plans that one time and did this to me? You must be pretty damn proud of yourself for accomplishing such a feat – taking down the big bad Red Leader! Not everyone can say they did it, I'll give you that much."
Tom stared blankly back at him, a bit dumbfounded by the aggressive mini-rant he had been subjected to. I must've struck a nerve there. The idea he somehow managed to offend Tord using only facts was mind-blowing by itself, but that he had the gall to make himself out to be more innocent than he actually is just takes the cake.
"Well, what the f#ck else am I supposed to think?" Tom exclaimed exasperatedly. "If you really mean to make the world a better place, then you would find a peaceful way to go about this other than war! But I know you; and you are a bloodthirsty and egotistical genius who only wants the thrill of leading your own soldiers into battle."
Taking a long sip of his wine, Tord cast him another smouldering glare. After another few heartbeats of uncomfortable silence, he lowered his glass and turned to Tom with fresh interest.
"Oh Tom, I never took you for being so naive." He murmured almost condescendingly, as if he were about to lay some important life wisdom on a helpless child. This ignited a spark of fury within Tom, but he refrained from retorting and merely nibbled on a piece of broccoli instead. "As nice as the notion of taking over the world through peaceful means sounds, it just isn't realistic. The world leaders will never surrender their power over to me just because I ask nicely – heck, most won't do it even at the cost of putting the safety of their citizens at risk!"
"If you are smart enough to build a giant robot, then you can definitely find a peaceful solution." Tom argued dryly.
"It's not that simple." Tord sighed. "Thomas, for once do try to see things from my perspective."
"I would, but I don't think my head can go that far up my ass."
"Peaceful means never last." Tord was trying really hard to maintain his patience in explaining his logic to the Brit. "Look throughout history for example; you will find many examples of great wars, but can you name one instance where a peaceful solution was applied successfully and consequences lasted until today? Probably not from the top of your head, and I'll tell you why. It's because, as horrible as wars are, they leave a greater impact on the world. It's a grim fact, but that's just how it is. People have better chances of conforming to new changes when put in devastating situations rather than just… politely asking them to."
Tom jerked his chin up defiantly. "You know, as a better alternative you should consider just subject people to some of your horrible hentai anime weebo sh#t." More quietly, he added: "It's devastating enough to traumatize anyone, and doesn't kill people!"
He expected an annoyed reply in return for his snarky suggestion; however, Tord simply regarded him with a curious look and a large knowing grin on his face. Tom was unsettled to say the least. Some instinct told him there was a secret here.
"I see you have some strong opinions on the matter. Though I can't help but wonder if it's targeted more towards me than the actual topic itself." Tord acknowledged smoothly. "Since you've been cooped up in this base for several months without any connections to the outside world, I can't exactly blame you for being so ignorant."
Stabbing the carton of juice with a straw, Tom fumed. "Alright, humour me then; just what kind of "better world" you plan on making then?"
"Why are you trying so hard to reason with him? ~" The voice inquired, running its hands through Tom's locks as if he were a cherished pet. "It's beyond your control at this point and shouldn't be a priority. If you are so concerned about the world you're leaving behind, remember that you will destroy his most destructive weapon on your way out, and all the harm he will do is not of your concern anymore. ~"
I know, I know. I shouldn't care about that, but I still do. Tom soothed sadly. I just don't want to talk about the experiments. Anything but that. Just the mere thought of them was enough to twist his heart in ways he'd never thought possible, and a terrible pain sear in his chest. But Tord is hiding something… any idea what it could be?
A long, drawn out hum echoed in his head as the voice pondered. "I agree. He has the expression of a cat that swallowed a canary. ~" It ceased petting Tom, eliciting a small sigh of relief from the eyeless man. "Perhaps he knows more than he lets on? ~"
Tom wanted to ask what it meant by that, but Tord began speaking and jerked him out of his thoughts.
"I'm glad you asked! How about a world where everyone has equal chance to live and work and thrive, regardless of their financial standing?"
An awkward silence dragged between them for a couple heartbeats. Tom shifted in his seat with pursed lips. "That sounds… actually kinda nice." He admitted with a contemplative tone.
"Or how about a world where people who are sick don't have to worry about the cost of their treatment over their own lives? Or doctors who care more about the lives they're saving than finances for that matter? But most importantly, a world free of prejudice! And that's only just a few noteworthy mentions." Tord continued, getting progressively more intense. "Just look at the current state of the planet right now, Thomas. The economy is failing, people are dying left and right; driven out of their homes, and openly persecuted. A war now would be a good reset button."
"Well… maybe." Tom couldn't argue with the vision Tord set in front of him. Anyone in their right mind would love to have a world where suffering was lowered to bare minimum. But there was just one teeny tiny little problem with that idea, and he was staring straight at him.
"But now who's the naive one here?" Tom fixed the Norsk with a thoughtful gaze. "Is that what you tell people to get them to join your dumb army? I genuinely feel sorry for those poor bastards who are this desperate and don't know any better."
Tord's gray eye widened; for a heartbeat he looked almost genuinely hurt. Fury blazed up inside of Tom. How dare Tord claim that his plan to take over the whole world is for a greater good?
"You have no intentions of going through with any of that, and you know it!" Tom sneered. "This is all just so you can feel good about yourself for once and get power over everyone else."
Staring back at him with a look of blatant disinterest, Tord sighed. "So… even after all of that… you still insist on viewing me as the bad guy?" He murmured; so softly it could almost be mistaken for melancholy.
Tom thought he could see a gleam of menace in his eye, but he shrugged it off and continued. "That's right! If you think some fancy words are enough to convince me of anything, then you're dead wrong." He narrowed his eyes. "You lie to everyone without a single shred of remorse. Why should I take your word now, Commie?"
He thought he had the last word. That this would be the end of what he knew right from the start would be a terrible meeting. Tom hoped that Tord would merely dismiss him with clear disappointment or frustration, and he would be free to leave and meet up with Paul and Pat for an evening of spooky movies. But to his astonishment, Tord shook his head and chuckled.
"Liar?" Tord echoed bitterly. "I suppose I am not the most honest or trustworthy person out there, I'll give you that. But what does that make of you then, huh? Are you a saint now all of a sudden? Are you really any better than I?"
Tom watched him in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?" He demanded. "Of course I'm more truthful than you! By a long shot!"
"Hypocrisy doesn't suit you, Thomas." Tord countered unexpectedly – the insult ringing in Tom's mind like the alarm bells he had on earlier.
"Okay then; tell me one instance that I lied! Go on! I dare you!"
Tord met his eyes steadily. "How about the fact that the serum works this entire time, and you tried to keep it a secret from us?"
Tom's blood ran cold and he sat rigid in his chair. For a few frantic seconds, words utterly failed him. No... Absolute horror gripped Tom and the colour drained from his face. How could he have possibly found out?
Tord took his stunned silence as his cue to keep going. "Come now, did you really think I wouldn't figure it out sooner or later?" He paused, his tone softening with something akin to remorse. "I didn't want to have come to this. I gave you one chance after another to prove yourself; to confess in your own time and come clean without fuss. But you just had to be difficult, didn't you?"
Tom looked at him for a long moment. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "How long have you-?"
"Ever since I returned from my trip." Tord replied coolly. "Between visiting each of my bases I stopped by our old home to look for clues about your condition, and found more than sufficient evidence to support the fact that you could transform into a monster this entire time." His gaze darkened. "Haven't you wondered why I even bothered to get your Tomee bear in the first place? It's because I was in the neighbourhood at the time."
The eyeless man across from him didn't respond. His eyes were wide, staring blankly ahead, horror-struck as if he were witnessing the destruction of everything he had ever worked for.
"This was your last chance, and you failed to comply." Tord held Tom's panicked gaze evenly as he slowly rose from his seat. "For concealing pivotal information regarding the serum project from your superiors, and consequently caused us to waste valuable time that could've been used for more pressing matters; I hereby strip you of all your privileges, and the experiments will commence at once."
His words triggered a fight or flight instinct within Tom. However, he knows by now he stands no chance to take down Tord; and even if he did, then what? Paul and Patrick would side with their leader and turn on him too. That leaves flight as his last option. But where would he go? Where could he go? There's a slim probability that the main doors were unlocked now, but the hallways out there were bustling with Red Army soldiers who will tackle him down on sight if necessary.
"There are other ways to escape… ~"
Almost automatically, Tom's gaze flickered down to his plate where his knife lay untouched. His heartbeat picked up, his mouth dried up and his breathing quickened. The weight of what he's about to do hit him full force and Tom hesitated.
"Do it now, you fool! Do you want to be responsible for ruining even more lives? ~"
The incentive worked like a shove and Tom's hand reached out for the knife against his will. Then everything escalated from there.
Tord was on him in an instant, just as his fingers closed around the blade. Robotic digits latched onto Tom's locks and forced his head down on the desk hard; the knife was ripped away from his grasp and his hands were pinned against his back by one of Tord's knees pressing on to him.
"Trying to stab your leader, Thomas?" Tord hissed into his ear. "You've pulled off some amazingly stupid stunts in the past, but this one might just take the cake."
The pressure in Tom's skull increased tenfold as his head was squashed between the desk and Tord's weight on top of him. It wasn't at all his intention when his body lurched for the knife, but he wasn't about to correct Tord on that. It's best he believes he was trying to rebel than let him in on another secret.
A sudden pinch to the base of his skull, just behind his ears where the neck muscles connect to the jawline, alarmed Tom and he started thrashing around to escape the tight grip. Tord added more weight to immobilize him.
"No- no! Wait!" Tom cried out hysterically. "The deal! I said no drugs or the deal is off!"
"Even though you broke the rules and even went so far as to try and attack me, I will keep my word. I'm not drugging you." Tord told him with blatant coldness. "But I had enough of you for one day, and there are plenty of ways other than drugs to knock someone unconscious." He maximised the pressure to the back of Tom's head. "I'm merely triggering the pressure point situated on your head. You should be unconscious soon enough."
To Tom's absolute dismay, his body started to slacken and his eyelids grew heavy. He tried to renew his struggles but he knew it would be futile. He could never dislodge Tord off of him in this state. Didn't help that the Commie was caressing the top of his head in a soothing motion to lull him unconscious. Light washed over his eyes, fading to leave nothing but darkness.
Ah, there it is, the f#ckening. In hindsight, Tom should've known something was seriously wrong when his day had been going way too great up until his dinner with Tord.
"You should've died when you had the chance. ~" The voice spat with fury before fading away into a distant echo.
A soft, black tide was rising to engulf him; Tom made one final effort to get up, but his body would not support him, and he fell back into nothingness. As the last fragments of consciousness faded away from his mind, Tom was vaguely aware of his body being carried somewhere as a soft voice spoke to him.
"Come, my little test subject; we have work to do…"
Build-up over.
Thank you all so much for your patience; we have finally reached the core of the plot!
Some fun facts about this chapter though: The beginning bit with Matt falling through the snow is based off of personal experience. I was going down to the supermarket with my friends, but we had to walk down a slope that was covered in ice and I was nervous about slipping and falling on my ass; especially since I had a surgery recently done and it would be pretty bad to open the wound again. So on the way I saw this layer of fluffy snow beside us, thought why not, and hopped in! I was going one step at a time until it reached a certain point where I sank to my chest and my friends laughed their asses off before dragging me out. Haha XD
I have no idea why, but for some reason I headcanon that Paul is a fanatic for the supernatural. Maybe it's because I watch way too many paranormal shows and spooky shit.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed it! Remember, the frequent updates will start on October 31st. Follow me on tumblr Heather1815 to ask me shit or send fanart, or just pass by to say hello if you want! I wish you all good day, and I'll see yah all later! ;)